


« When you smile, I fall apart. » [RochexIorveth]

by CapsuleCosplay



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Elf Culture & Customs, Elf Sex, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Gay Sex, Idiots in Love, Love, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22196515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapsuleCosplay/pseuds/CapsuleCosplay
Summary: Luring at the Scoia'Tael commander all day long gave Roche a buch of informations.But Ves shall never hear about them.First try, don't kill me please >< <3
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	« When you smile, I fall apart. » [RochexIorveth]

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pendergast](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Pendergast).



**« When you smile, I fall apart. » [RochexIorveth]**

Iorweth was sitting near the campfire, bending his back to sharpen his blade. Silently, precisely getting the polishing rock on each side, slowly. The scenery looked like a dream with the firelight dancing on his hands by each movement. Roche was supposed to spy the Scoia’Tael commander to get information of the next plan they were working on. But he ended luring the elf for hours now, silently hiding in the dark of night, the other camp members went to sleep, but not him. Why?

Iorweth was still working on each blade he owned, softly smiling at the dancing flames before him. Silence was his company as he put the last one next to him, widening his smile even more, due to the hard work he had sharpening his blades.

_“When you smile, I fall apart.”_

The words of the Temerian brunette made Iorweth freeze right here.

_“Squass’me?”_

The elf could not believe what he just heard. Roche on his own, froze as he realized what he just said out loud, blowing up his cover and hiding to the commander.

The two looked at each other in silence, open mouthed, not knowing if one or another was dreaming or not. Roche was the first to break the moment:

 _“Well, it’s kind of true…”_ he said scratching his head _“I think I never saw you smile before, makes you look, kind of normal… Suits you.”_

Iorweth could not believe he was awake. What did this bloede dh’oine just said? Halfway on anger and awkwardness, he still couldn’t get his eyes away from the Temerian boy, still trying to hide from the Scoia’Tael commander.

Iorweth shook his head, smiling again:

 _“Well, looks like someone is willing to die tonight… Tell me, is this a new way for Blue Stripes to provoke your enemies?”_ He stood up, coming slowly to Roche:

_“Why didn’t you run after saying this? I can’t believe you’re still here. Waiting for death?”_

One step more.

_“Waiting for me to kill you?”_

Two steps.

_“Willing me to thank you for these words?”_

Three steps, damn he was close.

Roche began to feel an unusual feeling up his _guts “Tell me dh’oine…”_ the elf said cupping Roche’s cheek with one hand _“Why would my smile be so important to you that you lure me all day long?”_

Shit. He knew. He always knew Roche was there. And yet, he never said a work against the luring man.

Why?

The elf was close. Pretty damn close. Roche couldn’t even move anymore, heart beating like a crazy drummer on a battlefield.

Has he been always that tall?

 _“What do you want?”_ Roche asked. _“If you’re not willing to kill me, why are you so close to me?”_

The elf smirked.

_“Well, it is not usual for me to be lured as you did by such an… Specially interesting dh’oine…”_

Roche bite his lips as Iorweth put an awkward break between those words. But the Temerian brunette had no time to think more as a hand moved on his neck. A thumb was tracing his jawline softly, stopping on his bottom lip.

Oh, why did his knees decided to fall on such time?

_“Strange, I always though you would be rough on touch, not… As soft as…”_

The elf didn’t though of the end of his words, his lips were already connected to the human’s ones in a soft, long and shy embrace. Slowly turning into a more passionate kiss. None of them dared open his eyes, they knew already who they were.

As their bodies came closer, almost melting into one, they kiss also came more needed. Craving for each other with every breath, every touch, every armor part they laid down on the floor.

 _“Wait. We shouldn’t-”_ Roche was the first to break the kiss, panting, searching for air, as elves could retain their breathing for much longer than humans. _“What if someone comes, I deeply don’t want to end this impaled like a milky pig by Eldain!”_

Iorweth couldn’t help himself as he chuckled, even if he knew the reputation this dh’oine had with raw language. _“Damn Vernon, can’t you be a little more romantic to predict your fate?”_ He looked at the man, smiling as he were doing so long ago.

 _“Still, you got the persecutor wrong.”_ He leaned on the human, whispering in his ear: _“I am the one to make you bend tonight.”_

Sharp. These words were sharp.

Normally, humans ended face on the floor in one fist for calling him Vernon.

But his smile. His genuine, gentle, charming smile.

Roche couldn’t help, he was down for the elf, for Temeria’s sake.

 _“Don’t you worry, it’ll be fine.”_ Said Iorweth in a breath. _“Everyone is asleep for now.”_ He took his look up the man _“For as long as your noises stay for my ears only. I don’t need you to be silent.”_ He looked up and down on the brunette before smirking and whispering: _“This pretty coarse voice of yours can be nice on some…”_ He licked the dh’oine’s chin _“Occasions…”_

A sharp hiss came from Roche as the elf made place for his teeth in his neck. And maybe one damned low, strangled, half silent moan.

A hand slipped on his belt, gripping it like a leach.

_“Take that off”_

Roche cuffed _“What, the belt?”_

_“Everything. Hurry.”_

_“Heard some elf-ass coming along?”_ Roche smirked as he began to open his trousers, slowly pulling the elf in pain of wait.

_“No. Did you saw me eat anything today, when luring at me like a perv?”_

Roche swallowed at the word. _“No, why, you’re hungry? Need me to go hunt some berries for you princess?”_ Roche didn’t keep his smirk for long as the elf was quickly pushing him to the ground. Kissing him one last time, long enough to left him breathless, he slowly began to trail a road of kisses and lickings on the Temerian’s chest. Both were softly moaning with each lip smack.

He was pecking on his ears.

Jawline.

Neck.

Shoulders.

Collarbone.

Pecs.

Stomach.

Abs.

Hipbone.

He stopped at the inner tights of the man, locking his eyes into the ones. Roche was now a messy panting amount of red-faced flesh, deeply sweating. Iorweth smiled innocently at him:

 _“I am starving for the lilies.”_ The words were still resonating between the trees as surprised moan came from the lying brunette.

 _“Dammit you’re-… Way…”_ He tangled his fingers in his hair cap, guiding his head along his shaft in a better angle, making his legs shake. Curling his toes to the ground: _“T-too good at-… Th-is!”_

The filled mouth of the elf curled as he heard Roche’s voice crumble under his tongue moves. Swirling along the men’s length as his hands explored his chest. A deep humming was the only answer Iorweth gave to him.

Close. He was too close. Too soon. But damn the elf didn’t make it easier to maintain!

_“Iorweth… P-please… Don’t… I – I’m not….”_

His hands gripped at the elf’s head as his back bend over.

_“Iorweth dammit are you-… Listening to me!?”_

A loud pop could be heard in the forest.

Iorweth used his thumb to get rid of saliva bits dropping from his lips.

_“You said?”_

_“You damn elf!”_ Roche tried to get up but the sidh leaned on him, kissing his neck before pulling over.

_“Turn over. And yes, it is an order.”_

Roche’s lips began to part, but words fall down his throat. Living the panting mess voiceless as the elf places his lips on his:

 _“Please, don’t make me wait to treat you good…”_ Said Iorweth between two kisses, lovingly rubbing the man’s inner tights.

Roche couldn’t get his brain straight, half of his mind wanted him to run away. The other half was, strangely, curious about the elf’s skills… How come he felt so low? How did he managed to put himself above the highest cliff to jump off? For Temeria’s sake, what the bloody hell was he doing!

Still, he listened to Iorweth’s claiming.

Getting rid of every part of clothes he wore. Slowly, hesitant, but the elf didn’t think of it that way.

_“What are you doing? I thought you more experienced than that! Ugh, let me help, you’ll be naked for Saovine if you continue to do things that slow…”_

Even if the arrogance in his voice was persistent, a small hint of softness could be heard in Iorveth’s concern. He began to tuck under Roche’s clothes, getting rid of every part of armor ceremonially, but still quick, and somehow, with a hunger only him could feel.

_“Get it up.”_

Roche was shocked: _“I beg your bloody pardon?”_

_“Get. It. Up! Now!”_

Roches turned his face away: _“You think it can be turned on in by simple ask?”_

Iorweth gathered the dh’oine’s glance seriously, a faint smirk on his lips, shaking the man’s leg.

 _“Well, I don’t know what you have in mind, dh’oine, but your boots will be better off if you lift your leg a bit!”_ He said in a chuckle. Roche felt himself dying by the following words Iorweth said, lifting himself up to the man’s ear:

 _“But don’t worry, you won’t need any assistance for this, aren’t I good enough for you to be”_ He packed the man’s pack in one hand, slowly pressuring it as Roche seemed already prepared _“tall enough?”._

Hard.

It was hard for the poor commander to swallow this time...

How could it be? What did the bloody bastard do to get him like that? Too fast, too confident, the elf was too much for him, in every way.

And yet he was standing there. Naked. The floor never looked as beautiful as he didn’t even dare look away from it. But sounds made him break his quick evasion: Iorveth took few steps further, getting rid of his gloves, letting them slowly fall near his ankle, bare legs pointing out of his gambeson.

How could a male have such slim and soft legs as he had? Wrists made no difference, and years, millennials, of sword fighting and archery did not expel the elf to get such beautiful hands.

Long and slim fingers running around each belt, each button, each part of his clothes slowly pulled off. Only to create a soft circle of fabric and chainmail around his body. A firepit in which Iorweth would be a dancing flame, heating Roche, keeping him awake in a cold night. A temptation none should touch, a burning desire.

The gambeson fell, leaving the man in a simple tunic, barely covering his body enough to be decent, but revealing much as Roche’s hope wished. The man stared, explored every inch of skin, scars, letting his imagination flow, drawing history for every detail he saw.

A quick snap of fingers took him back to reality, as Iorweth came closer to him:

_“Never saw someone naked before? Who guessed the Blue Stripes Commander was a little new lamb?”_

The elf said in a chuckle, barely covering his smile with his hand.

That. Damn. Smile.

 _“Is this where your bravery stops? I understand you’ll keep the mask on, but is it necessary to…”_ he lifted Iorweth’s tunic upon one of his hips, gently stroking at his skin. Incredibly soft, drawing every perfect shape of the elf’s muscles, bones. _“…Let this on?”_ Roche said as a faint smirk of victory took his lips, as he saw the elf’s face come from a smile to a visible confusion.

He added:

 _“Or did you wish me to uncover your delicate body?”_ Roche took the only chance he had to inverse the roles for once. He was in the middle of a Scoia’Tael camp, totally naked, he had nothing left to lose.

He took a step further, making the elf rewind his trail.

 _“Tell me Iorweth, how do you want me to do it?”_ He was still slowly pushing the elf back, stopped by the nearest tree behind him.

 _“Want me to lift it up like a whore’s corset? Order you to take it off as a slave? Or even better-”_ He took the low part of the tunic in his strong hands, caroused by years of sword fighting, and special trainings. He murmured to the elf’s ear with the lowest voice he could: _“Do you want me to rip it off as Nilfgaard did for your dreams?”_

No more.

It took no more than a quick look on the shocked face of the elf to tire his hands apart, perfectly cutting open the light brown tunic. HE caught Iorweth in a gasp this time. HE let him wordless. He made his heart break his ribs from surprise.

HE made the elf HIS.

Roche closed his eyes and frowned a bit, as he saw Iorweth’s hands coming at his face in a fast movement, anticipating the slap he would receive.

Oh, he wasn’t ready.

His brain shut down as he felt these soft, delicate, cold hands on his cheeks. Soon coming along with hot lips roughly pressed against his. It took him only few seconds before letting himself go in, keeping the elf in a close embrace, arms around his waist, hands sliding on his back, a trail along these perfect curves.

Iorweth let his hands fall on Roche’s nape, softly gripping that ugly chaperon of his.

 _“Don’t you dare.”_ Said the man with his lips still pressed on the elf’s ones.

 _“I’m not going further if you keep that towel on you, dh’oine.”_ Responded Iorweth, still kissing, trying to get rid of the black curse Roche kept wearing anytime of the year.

_“Then give up on yours too, elf.”_

Darts.

Roche’s eyes were heated lances to Iorweth’s heart. He took a step backward, not even daring to look at the man.

Roche came back at him, taking back the elf’s attention with a cupped hand on his cheek:

 _“It’s alright, you can trust me, I’m not here to hurt you”_ He took off his chaperon, tossing it somewhere nearby. _“Let me see you as you see me.”_

Calm. Soft. Low and warm. These words, this voice, meant the world to him.

His eye peeked at the man’s face, a soft smile drew itself on him, as his hand trailed to Iorweth’s head cap knot:

_“Can I?”_

_“…”_

The elf’s lips parted with no sound, a silent hesitation, searching for words he couldn’t tell. Roche lured at these soft lips before leaning on them, closing the gap between them with a tender kiss.

_“Do it.”_

_“Sure?”_ Asked Roche, his hand still on the knot.

_“Do it before I change my mind you stupid dh’oine.”_

Roches chuckled on the elf’s lips as he took the knot off. Iorweth felt a release on his face as the pression of the fabric fall off, leaving his breathe again. Shivering from the cold air touch it gave him. Keeping his eye closed, he broke the kiss to glance at the Blue Stripes commander.

It was not surprise, neither fear. Iorweth had for the first time a true, warm, and gentle smile in front of him.

Roche could not take feelings out of himself; the elf was better than he imagined. His features were sharp, yet so beautiful. Damn he could not be in a worse position than this one. The man could feel his heart bump in his ribcage louder than an entire Nilfgaardian battalion walking in full armor set.

They looked at each other, afraid to move, eyes locked on the other’s one, searching for answers, explanations. Nor one or the other ever thought of this situation before. Dh’oinne and elves, Scoia’Tael and Blue Stripes mutual rivals, enemies for so long, had now pushed the lines too far for each other’s sanity to be there still.

 _“Vernon, may I…?”_ Few survived at the attempt of calling Roche by his name, but the blushing elf could even spat on him at the moment, the man wouldn’t care much.

 _“Do what you’re pleased, it can’t worse right now…”_ Damn the man thought of his men, Ves even more. What would she think of him, almost a brother, if she saw him like that? Bending for a man, moaning by an elven touch…

His thoughts didn’t go far as the man was took up from his daydreaming by soft lips nabbing at his. Soft, slim hands climbing along his tights, hips, ling fingers curling around his bottom cheeks, lifting them up with need. The man’s hands also found their trail after a hesitant pose in the air. Rubbing the elf’s nape, shoulders, back, giving him shivers with each new muscle he discovered. Yet, their embrace soon had the shape of a living fire. Each gesture being more needy, more, vital to each other. Pants began to be louder, quicker, faster than before, hands running on their bodies in an intimate dance.

They needed it, for so long, a forbidden love, passionate hate.

Intense, Iorweth did not resent something as this since long, long time ago. So long it took him back on his life before the Nilfgaardian’s battalion, before the creation of the Scoia’Tael even. Happy times, happy places, happy elves…

A firm grasp on his bottom and a vivid pain took the elf out of his day dream as he felt himself lifted in the air in a sudden movement. Legs wrapping around his opponent in a bad reflex, back pined on the nearest rock next to them.

_“What ess-!”_

_“Well, now that we both agreed on our despicable fate for the night, I suggest the strongest one opens the ball. See no inconvenience in the choice, but I’m not known to be fair with elves, nor weak.”_

_“Bloede bastard, you think you can hold me long before I bite your neck for other matter than sex?”_

Roche caged Iorweth’s hands on the rock upon his head with one of his, keeping the elf’s hips on his with the other. Just placed perfectly to stretch his cheek on the left, letting place fir his middle finger to tease it, bringing the elf a panic gasp, or a moan to someone’s ears. Roche made his way to Iorweth’s ear:

 _“Yes, I can easily lift you all night long if I desire so, you weight no more to me than a young, slender, pretty lass… But be sure I’ll let you play once I’m done.”_ He added in a whisper: _“If you still can lift your legs or whatever needs to be functional.”_ Then kissed the elf’s neck before digging his cuspids in it, letting a soft cry escaping Iorweth’s throat with a pleasurable note, contortion of his body under his pressure.

Damn that grin, Iorweth felt it on his skin as he cut his own bottom lip to cease the sound of pain, pleasure, and impatience the dh’oine made him by running his tongue over the bite mark, kindly lapping the faint of blood slowly covering the elf’s collarbone. He felt bad to fall so low for a dh’oine, even if he were secretly happy to fall for this one. Merely proud.

Vernon Roche, Special Forces Commander for the last four years. Servant of the Temerian King. Responsible for the pacification of the Mahakaman foothills. Hunter of Elves, murderer of women and children…

His enemy.

His rival.

His trophy.

His.

As his thoughts drove him away from the present pain on his neck, Roches continued his way on the elf’s body. Teasing his hostage’s entrance with ability, never really getting there, never really leaving it. His grin could only widen as the slender body he had sandwiched with his own moved by his gestures. A pride he could no more hide as he heard Iorweth turn into a messy panting being, near to beg him for mercy, for, release.

Iorweth’s back almost hurt by the time, rubbing against the rock in a desperate try to escape Roche’s hands, may them pine him here or dangerously circling his entrance.

 _“Vern-”_ The elf tried to manage a sentence, despite a mushy brain and the beginning of a sore throat due to his panting _“Ver-non! Squaess! Ys. Down. Let me – down… Squaess Vern-. Aé caen neén, neén more. It hurts, aé éigean-”_

 _“And what is it you need?”_ The man’s voice never felt so low, filled with lust, desire, hunger… _“Be put down? If that’s what you want elf…”_ By the end of his words, Roche stopped playing with the elf and slowly began to take him down, his shaft now pressing against Iorweth’s lower parts. Iorweth opened his eye in panic, hair drenched on his forehead by sweat, mouth open in a silent complain as he felt the man’s tip under him.

_“Squaess, het-”_

_“Don’t worry” murmured Roche to his ear “I won’t go with you unprepared, I’m an elf killer, not some Witcher’s contract. So, wrap your legs tighter, I need my hands.”_

Iorweth closed his eye and did obey to the man’s will. Crossing his ankles, digging his heels in the dh’oine’s lower back. Feet kept in maintain only by Roche’s upper ass.

Dammit, why do he have to fit his body curves with such perfection?

Roche kept his thought together, tossing his head from side to side before lifting his right hand above Iorweth’s face, keeping the left one pinning his wrists. He cupped the elf’s jaw, leading it for a tender kiss, tongue waiting for Iorweth’s invitation, which came quite sooner than he thought. Hesitantly tasting each other before quivering into a warm embrace, together moaning insults and bird names with every movement their tongues made. Roche was the first to break the kiss, which quite annoyed Iorweth for a moment as he pouted at him.

_“Open your mouth, I’m not finished with you.”_

As harsh as it sounded, the coarse voice of the commander found its way to Iorweth’s lust, enough for him to obey, but not surrender:

_“Or?”_

No answer, just thick, salty fingers into his mouth as a respond.

Deep, too deep.

 _“You better lick them well, or you may be the one with regrets…”_ Roche tried his best to keep a cold façade behold the elf, but as soon as this one began to roll his tongue between his middle and ring finger, the poor man couldn’t do anything else but lose his temper as his teeth clenched together.

Iorweth was too good at it, and he knew it. As long as the Temerian boy fought to not let his knees weaken by the elf’s skills, Iorweth kept trailing his tongue over Roche’s coarse fingers, taking care to cover every bit of them with saliva. He could tell he did good just by the way Roche’s fingers curled against his tongue, or slide more into his throat, guilt took him such as a dominance pleasure of being responsible of the dh’oine’s weakness. Might he not be in the best position, but sure he would be a real dick to tease the dh’oine the best he could. Panting more and more by the time, the dh’oine soon began to look like a panting mess, near to beg for mercy, or more… Iorweth could even feel the warm of his breath as he played devilry with his tongue over the fingers, licking and sucking them with hunger, as curiosity. Willing to make him beg, suffer, teasing him with soft moans, bites over the edges, nearly gaging for more. He knew the dh’oine was close.

But Roche did not let him bother him more, as he quickly pulled off his fingers from the elf’s mouth in a gasp of surprise shared by both of them.

_“Enjoyed yourself elf? Sorry but… Now is my time to tease…”_

As he kissed his sloppy fingers, Roche tightened his left hand on the elf’s wrists. Lowering the right one to Iorweth’s entrance. Kissing him, biting his lower lip:

_“My time to play.”_

Iorweth couldn’t keep his moan in, voice breaking in a high pitch tune, release of the waiting for what he waited for. A sweet treat before the storm the human was about to give him. Roche ran his lips to the elf’s neck, devouring and licking the part he sooner already hurt. The wound was still fresh, sensitive enough to steal few tears from Iorweth’s eye, as few more elven insults.

_“Aah- Can’t you go somewhere- Else?”_

_“I could, but it wouldn’t bring you to tears so easily. But maybe this should ease you, or make it worse.”_

Tight, the elf was tight around his fingers as he pulled them in as far as he could. Digging his teeth again if the elf’s neck, collarbone, chest.

Iorweth’s body moved against his will with the scissoring fingers inside him, teasing, stretching him. Oh, he tried to lay his hands down, and succeeded as Roche left his rest on the elf’s back, which was covered with scratches from the rock.

 _“Squaess…_ _Aen'drean. Aen!_ _Aé éigean taedh- Aen me!”_

Roche didn’t get any word of it, but the tone was enough for him to guess the wish, even so he couldn’t wait any longer himself.

He took his fingers out of the elf, placing both his hands on his cheeks, pressing Iorweth’s back on the rock again, face buried in the crook of his neck:

“Breathe, it can be quite a lot to take for a first…”

_“Squaess me taedh bloede dh’-”_

Iorweth could not end his words as pain took him awake from his lustful state. He was not lying. And years only mattering on battle did not help the elf.

Het bloede dh’oine did not lie.

Iorweth could not help himself but let out a slight cry while Roche’s manhood caught himself deeper in him. Stretching his insides with easiness. The elf caught his hands on the man’s shoulders, trying to lift himself to ease the pain he was given, but Roche kept him down in a sturdy catch, burying himself in Iorweth by seconds. Biting this one on the collarbone. Iorweth, on his side, had already dig his nails in the man’s back and shoulders, mouth buried in his neck to muffle the scream he just made, tears running along his cheek. They kept silent, not moving for few times. Roche brushed his thumbs on Iorweth bottom cheeks, pecking kisses where he had his teeth before:

_“Are you alright?”_

_“Essea yeá.”_

_“Not playing tough anymore uh? What a commander…”_

The elf bites his neck as a respond.

_“Eh, so you can take worse than that… Understood.”_

Oh, he did regret showing such energy to the man. Might he have just nodded, but his fate was clear now, Roche had all cards in hands, so Iorweth just took a better grip on the man’s shoulder and back.

_“Tell me if it is too much, I won’t care.”_

By these words, Roche began to steady himself, landing the elf’s shoulders on the rock behind him, thrusting slowly in small movements. Once he felt the elf’s opening getting a bit loosened, he knew he could bring a better pace for his own will and pleasure.

_“So, I heard you elves were oversensitive with your ears… Is that true?”_

Even if he played dominant, his tone showed care and curiosity which calmed Iorweth for a moment of sweetness.

_“So, we’re into sex-talk now? I didn’t know you were a vanilla.”_

Roche made Iorweth regret his assumptions in a deep thrust, pressing the elf’s cheeks to bury himself the deepest he could as he had a bite of his left ear. Stealing a loud moan to the elf.

_“Guess I now have my answer. Want me to nib at it while… I…?”_

_“Yes, please…”_ Said the elf before burying his red face into Roche’s neck, which made the man have a soft smile. Roche kissed Iorweth’s ear:

_“It better helps you to relax, I need to get the rest in.”_

Iorweth straightened himself

in a quick movement:

_“The fuck you mean the rest in? The rest of what? You mean you’re not-”_

_You perfectly know what I meant by it…”_ Said Roche, getting the elf down along his _shaft “If you already cried at the half of it, you shall pray your ancient elven gods for what’s to come.”_

Iorweth’s eye opened wide at these words, hardly realising how would he hold his insides together if-

Too late to think, he shut his eye as a loud scream released itself from his throat, which he tried his best to cover in Roche’s left shoulder. Biting him, digging his nails into his back, an anchor made of soft steel, sweat, and blood now.

Roche took himself a better grip at Iorweth’s tights, lifting him before pulling his shaft again in the elf’s rear. Once stabilized, he kept his right hand on the tight, the left one came on the back of Iorweth’s head. Tangled his fingers in his hair tightly, teeth on the tip of his ear, most sensible area.

Thrusts took their pace again. Iorweth’s face was buried in Roche’s neck, muffling noises and moans the best he could. Pants, moans and insults were covering the sloppy noises their body made, holding one to another as if their life held by it.


End file.
